I had dinner with an old friend this evening (I don’t really know if that’s the correct way to phrase that – she’s younger than me; ergo: not old…and, although we’ve been friends for a while, we aren’t “since childhood” friends; more like, “since we all moved home after college and there was no one else to hang out with” friends…and she’s not a former acquaintance – even though, she did move away and is back in town for a visit…anyway…we ate Mexican), and we were talking about what was new in our lives since the last time she was here.
“I read a book!” she said.
“Yes, I knew you would be proud of me,” she beamed.
“What book was it?” I asked.
“You know. That book.”
I was drawing a blank.
“That one you gave me three years ago.”
“Oh yeah! You read that?”
“Well. I started it. I read, like, a chapter…or maybe a few pages. Anyway, it’s on my nightstand. I look at it all the time.”
“Baby steps, baby steps.” I reassured her.
We continued to chat about her roommate, the hot trainer guy at her gym, my class, the really cool medieval project my students are working on. I mentioned the new blog I’m trying to get up and running.
“Oh, hey! I started a blog,” she said.
“Really? That’s awesome! What is it called?”
“Ummm….my name and some numbers maybe?”
“Are you sure? That sounds like your user name, not your blog.”
“Oh. Well, I can’t remember the name of it. I’ll have to look it up and send you the link.”
“Yay for you! I’ll follow you and write comments on your posts to encourage you! Comments are like catnip for bloggers.”
“Are they?” she laughed, “then what are followers?”
“Um, I dunno. Crack, I guess…”